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“Oh, ha ha,” I say. “Yes, I am well aware I smell like a horse.”
Garrett’s lips curl in a half grin. “You smell like Winnie. I like it.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing, but since I like you best of all, I’ll accept it.”
“I like you best of all, too.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t afford different shoes.”
Garrett sighs and looks down at her brand-new white knockoff Skechers. “The shoes are fine. I like them! I don’t need different shoes. This is all very character building for my Pulitzer-winning memoirs one day.”
“That’s the spirit. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Callie fucking Foster.”
Garrett giggles, looking happier. “What about your day? You said you’d tell me.”
I groan. “Case fucking Michaels saw me barrel racing Queen Mab and has decided to appoint himself my life coach.”
“You do ride like the wind,” Garrett says, her tone proud. She might not care about horses, but she likes to watchme.
“I do,” I say without modesty. “But rodeos are a money suck.”
“Don’t people win a lot of money in rodeos?”
“If they’re good, sure. The leading barrel racers can make three hundred thousand a season in winnings. But they also have sponsorships and teams and, like, oh, I don’t know, horses. Multiple horses, even.”
“Ah,” Garrett says. “Three hundred K, though. That’s… a lot.”
“A windfall like that would ruin your memoir.”
“Not very character building at all,” she admits brightly. “So why does the famous Case Michaels want to be your life coach?”
I exhale. “He thinks Mab and I could make it big. Which”—I shrug, again, not being modest—“he’s not wrong. From the numbers, with practice, it’s not a stretch. But the obstacles are enormous, and I have responsibilities. I live in the real world, not the rodeo world.”
“It’s nice he thinks it, though.”
“It was,” I agree. “Well. Mostly annoying, if I’m being honest, but sort of nice, too.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to see you waste your dreams on Dad and Jesse and me.”
My expression melts, and I pull her close and kiss the top of her head. “I’m not wasting my dreams on you, Garre. I’m pinning my hopes on you and your beautiful brain. It’s an investment.”
She quirks another smile and hugs me close. “Then maybe I’ll keep trying to think of an idea to make both our dreams work.”
I settle back in my seat and turn over the ignition and grin at the intense look of concentration suddenly painting my littlesister’s face. “If anyone can do it, it would be you. Now pass me my phone. I think today calls for Taylor Swift.”
Garrett passes me the phone, and I scroll to “You Need to Calm Down,” cranking it as loud as the speakers will go before heading the rest of the way home.
EightCASE
Last Year
Today, I’m earlier than usual. I had an argument with Case Jr. about the amount of time I’ve been “wasting” at the hospital instead of training, but my sleep schedule’s all fucked up, and anyway, Brody hasn’t been much for training these days either.
Everyone waves me through, from the lobby to the front desk to the nurses’ station. They all recognize me by now. Sometimes I’ll stop to chat, but not today. Today, I drop off some cookies for the nurses, freshly baked from Kerry, then poke my head into Ryder’s room and see if he’s awake. I’d brought him the latest Rick Riordan book. It released this morning, and I know he’s a massive fan. I promise to check back in later tonight and give his mom another Tupperware of Kerry’s cookies.
From there, I make my way down the hall to Walker’s room. I figure at this point, room 104 will forever be imprinted on my consciousness. As usual, I stop to brace myself, clearing my face of the argument with my dad, and stiffen up my shoulders. All bullshit gets left at the door. Before I can even raise my hand to knock, however, the door flies open and Walker’s brother, Brody, rushes past me, his mom right behind him.
What the—?
